tyler_gone: ([neu] sitting down)
Tyler's office hours today could be divided into three parts.

There was the morning, when he actually did his work and only occasionally glanced over at the Tony-pony napping on his office couch. (He'd told the pony that his hooves would ruin the upholstery. Tony's glare in response somehow managed to communicate he'd pay for it. Also that Tyler was ridiculous and very, very feminine for saying the word "upholstery.")

Then there was the really fun part when he tried to brush the pony and wrangle him out of the office to meet Steve. He got bitten on his thumb. Pony teeth hurt.

Then, in late afternoon, there was the odd feeling of not having a pony in his office anymore ... and sort of missing him.

[Open door, open office.]
tyler_gone: (really rather intense)
Due to sheer boredom, Tyler had helped the pony up the stairs to his room.

Tony hadn't even complained too much.

He slumped on the floor of his room, back against the wall, flipping through some book about diseases and scratching the pony's ears every so often. He was wearing his new t-shirt because it was really freaking soft.

Definitely not the most exciting day before Christmas Eve Tyler had ever lived through, but at least there weren't any Salvation Army carollers to annoy him.
tyler_gone: (Team Awesome)
Tyler was on the couch in his new place, watching the third hour of a "Mythbusters" marathon. Every so often, the pony beside him would snort and roll his eyes.

"Bad science?" Tyler asked absently. Even with Tony as a pony, this kind of quiet time was weirdly nice, and much too easy to get used to.

Tony snorted in agreement, shaking his head to agree with that or maybe just because he had his damn forelock covering his eyes again. This time the being a pony was lasting far too long for his liking. He rested his head against Tyler and sighed sadly.

Tyler sighed back and brushed his fingers through Tony's forelock. "If you're still like this on Christmas, I'll stick antlers on you and claim you're a miniature reindeer," he said, not putting much heat into the teasing.

Glaring as much as a pony could manage, Tony nipped at his leg. He wasn't wearing any ridiculous antlers. Or ribbons.

And no pictures, please!

Tyler whapped lightly at the pony's jaw, annoyed by the bite. "No antlers?" he tried instead. "You are one picky little pony."

It was easy, curled up on the couch, to shift into a daydream. )

Which is exactly what he did when he snapped out of that little fantasy. He gave the pony an uneasy look, wondering what had just happened, as he changed the station to G4.

"This is the first time I've been glad you're a pony right now."

[OOC: Preplayed with the splenderiffic [livejournal.com profile] not_ironmaiden. Just our little contribution to IAWL.]
tyler_gone: (at desk)
There had been a shiny new packet of colored pencils in Tyler's keyboard tray when he slid it out.

That would have been more exciting if he hadn't been tending to a miniature pony.

A miniature pony with a hangover.

Tyler had a feeling he was going to need to talk to Lindsay about that one. For now, he was alternating between pretending to work and resisting his urge to film the hungover miniature pony.

[OOC: Open office, but weird day IRL. Should be on and off.]
tyler_gone: (Try me)
Boxes. Tyler was sure his boxes had multiplied between the time he moved out of 33 Apocalypse and when he got to Lindsay's mansion. And no matter how many he unpacked, there still seemed to be more.

Which was why he was doing the sensible thing and sitting on the couch, watching the History channel, and drinking a beer. If he ignored the boxes long enough, they might even unpack themselves.

It never hurt to be hopeful in Fandom.

[OOC: For one, but open to housemate if she wants.]

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Tyler Durden

April 2015

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